


Let Them Eat Cake

by mysticanni



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking, Domestic Fluff, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26917354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: Roger is haunted by a ghost who misses baking
Relationships: John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Comments: 14
Kudos: 24
Collections: The Clog Factory Halloween Exchange 🎃





	Let Them Eat Cake

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!

Following Brian’s illness they had decided a break would do them all good. They would get away from everyone and everything for a while. 

So they rented a cottage on the edge of a small village deep in the countryside, packed their belongings in the van and set off for some much needed peace and quiet. 

As they stepped out of the van all Brian could hear was bird song. He could smell wood smoke. He smiled, feeling they had made the right choice. “I feel more relaxed already,” he remarked.

“Good,” Freddie said softly. “We were very worried about you, dear,” he added. He glanced about. To him it felt too quiet and slightly unnerving but he supposed he would get used to it.

“Right, then, let’s get the van unloaded,” John said briskly. The cottage was like something out of a fairytale he thought – a little stone cottage with a pretty little garden and tall trees towering behind it. The start of quite a sizeable forest apparently. 

“There’s quite a good pub in the village,” Roger told them all cheerfully, “and it serves food so we won’t starve!”

*

The village boasted a small post office, a little village store and a pub. Roger found himself inexplicably drawn to the baking products in the store. He frowned -he had never baked a cake in his life. Still, perhaps it was something he should try while he had time in this countryside idyll.

Brian shrugged when he mentioned the idea. “It’s your money, Rog, if you want to waste it on ingredients for a cake that’ll probably be inedible then that’s up to you!” He considered the proposal further. “You’ll be responsible for cleaning the oven and any other mess. And if you cause any damage you can pay for that too,” he stipulated.

“I’m not that bad at cooking,” Roger protested into a pointedly disbelieving silence.

“What are you going to attempt?” John wondered, amused.

“Vegan carrot cake for Bri,” Roger replied promptly. The promptness startled him – he had not thought about what he might bake before John had asked the question and he was pretty certain vegan carrot cake would not have been what he would have thought of. But if it was what his sub-conscious wanted to make then who was he to argue. He fished his phone out of his pocket to look up a recipe and see what he needed to buy. 

*

The cottage felt loved, Roger thought as he carefully assembled his cake ingredients. He added the correct amounts to bowls and dishes ready to use as television cooks did. The others had gone out for a walk and he felt slightly aggrieved that no one was there to witness his efficiency. He thought for a moment he heard a faint female voice saying, “I am.” But of course it was just his imagination playing tricks on him.

*

“I’m not sure we should have left him unsupervised in the kitchen,” John fretted as they followed the path into the woods.

“We’ll hear an explosion,” Brian grinned, “and smell smoke!”

“That isn’t funny, Brian,” John snapped. “He’s perfectly capable of burning the house down!”

“We don’t have to go far,” Freddie pointed out soothingly, “we can just go a little way into the woods and then go back and check on him.”

*

“Hi, honey, we’re home!” Brian called as they entered the cottage to a delicious aroma. 

“Oh, your cake smells divine, dear!” Freddie said.

John was expecting the kitchen to be a disaster zone and was astonished to discover that it was spotless. “Wow,” he said, sliding his arms around Roger’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. “Who are you and what did you do with Roger?”

“Fuck off,” Roger said good-naturedly, “I’m trying to make the topping thingy.”

“You sound like Roger,” John laughed, “but your cooking smells like it might be edible.”

*

Normally, Roger would have slapped frosting sloppily over the cake without worrying too much about how it looked. Of course, normally the cake would have burnt to a crisp in the oven and been scraped into the bin or it would have proved inedible for some reason and been thrown away. Roger’s rare attempts at preparing food were not usually eaten and often left undecorated in the rubbish.

Today, however, with a rather beautiful looking cake on his hands he filled a piping bag with the frosting and neatly piped it on to the cake. “That looks amazing,” Brian told him, resting his chin on the top of Roger’s head.

“I expect there’ll be something wrong with it,” Roger sighed. There always was.

*

There was a short moment of silence after they had all bitten into their slices of cake. Roger watched them over the rim of his mug and waited for the verdict.

“This is gorgeous, darling!” Freddie exclaimed.

“It’s lovely,” Brian agreed. 

“You’ve made an edible cake successfully and no one was harmed in the process,” John told him. “Good job!”

Roger thought they were teasing him at first but then he bit into his own slice of cake and was surprised to discover that it tasted every bit as good as it looked. The Gods of baking had clearly been with him. He thought he heard a voice murmur, “Not a God – just me, dear,” but he must have been mistaken of course. 

*  
The following day Roger unusually awakened before the others. He slipped down to the kitchen and began to make pancakes. He had tried his hand at pancakes before but never successfully. That morning it was as if he was possessed by a baking demon - or a baking God, perhaps.

“Only me, dear,” the voice he couldn’t possibly be hearing said cheerfully. 

The others were delighted with their breakfast. “You’ve become all domesticated, darling!” Freddie laughed, kissing Roger. 

“It must be the setting,” Roger shrugged. He thought for a moment he heard faint laughter but he must have been imagining it.

*

After a walk they stopped in the village shop so Freddie could get cigarettes. Roger gravitated to the baking goods again. “What scrumptious treat can we expect next?” John grinned.

“Chocolate fudge cake, I think,” Roger told him.

*

This time they remained in the kitchen and watched Roger assemble his ingredients and create the cake. “You look almost as if you are in a trance, darling,” Freddie observed. 

Roger smiled dreamily at him. He was concentrating on the little voice that couldn’t possibly be real – the baking voice as he had started to think of it – which was telling him what to do next. The voice added warm praise – assuring him he was doing brilliantly and the mixture looked just right.

Roger was still slightly astonished by how delicious the cake tasted. 

*

The next day was wet and chilly so they lit a fire and sat playing scrabble. The baking voice urged Roger to make scones which turned out to be unexpectedly large and light and golden. Roger frowned as he sipped tea and nibbled on a scone. “I think there might be a ghost,” he mumbled to the others. 

Freddie nodded. “Suzy says there is,” he agreed.

“Who is Suzy?” Brian puzzled, adding, “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Suzy works in the shop,” Freddie explained. “She says old Mrs Love who lived here was a witch and she died suddenly while stirring her cauldron.”

Roger laughed. “She says it wasn’t a cauldron – she was using a large saucepan because she was making fudge.” They all stared at him and he flushed. “She talks to me,” he said defensively. He glanced at Brian, “Either ghosts exist or I’m going mad.”

“Stress can have unexpected consequences,” Brian began. 

“I’m not sure I care whether it’s stress or a ghost that is helping you with baking these treats,” John shrugged. “I’m just going to enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Yes, well, I expect it will just be while we are here,” Roger muttered. 

“Should we be helping Mrs Love into the light or something?” Freddie wondered. 

“She says that’s very sweet of you but she is perfectly fine,” Roger assured him.

*

Roger sighed as Freddie posted the key back through the letter box. “I’ve enjoyed our time here,” he remarked, “I shall miss being able to bake!”

Freddie laughed. “We’ll miss that too – but it will be better for our waistlines perhaps!”

John rumpled Roger’s hair. “Perhaps the ghost has instilled their talents in you and you’ll still be able to bake,” he suggested. 

Roger shook his head. “I doubt it somehow!” He shrugged. “Maybe we can rent this place out again at some time in the future and get some more treats!”

“I’ve enjoyed it here too,” Brian said, “it’s so peaceful.” He drew Roger close to him, saying teasingly, “Your ghost might decide to haunt only you and come with us!”

The disembodied voice only Roger could hear murmured, “I did consider that, dear, as you’ve been an absolute joy but this was my home and I think I’ll stay here a little longer. Cousin Gladys lives near you in the city, though, so she might pop in occasionally.”

Roger beamed. “If she could manage birthdays that would be wonderful!” he said happily. 

“I’m sure she’d be delighted, dear, it’s not as if she’s doing anything else. There’s a lot of hanging around, you know. Not everyone can sense us,” Mrs Love informed him. 

“I hope the next guests are nice, Mrs L,” Roger said, “It was lovely to meet you.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “The sooner you’re back in your usual routine the better,” he muttered. 

Roger felt a rush of cold air and realised the ghost was hugging him. He told the others that they might get a visit from the ghostly cousin Gladys back at their own house. Brian groaned. “You’re going to keep going with this nonsense then?”

“Don’t discourage him from providing cake, dear,” Freddie glared at Brian.

John nodded. “Even if he is having stress induced auditory hallucinations there are positive benefits,” he noted. 

“Thanks, I think,” Roger laughed. “Okay, let’s get back to our real lives!”

*

He had been slightly nervous in case he started seeing or hearing ghosts everywhere but that was not the case. They had been home for a few months before cousin Gladys murmured an introduction in his ear. 

They baked a Victoria sponge. Gladys was chatty and Roger discovered she divided her time between a few houses. “You’re a lovely person to haunt,” she told him. “Don’t worry though, love, I know you won’t have endless time to bake – it’s different at the cottage when you’re relaxing and can take your time with things. I’ll just pop back occasionally.”

Roger agreed that his life was busy and informed Gladys that it would be perfect if she manifested occasionally so he could provide sweet treats for his lovers. “Of course, dear,” she replied, “And you’ll all live happily ever afterwards.”


End file.
